Facets
by Equal-Opportunity-Reader
Summary: Just what the title says: My first prompt challenge for the show, "Walking Dead" Tentatively rated T. Enjoy?


**WD Prompt**

Word Prompt: Pick four or more: haze of red, frayed sleeve, old fashioned Georgia courting, hat, slick slide, gun oil, wrong, gush, dirt smears

Credit for this goes to The Reader's Muse for twisting my arm, er, I mean, charming me into this!

Since this is my first post here on FF, let me know how I can improve on this, constructive criticism only, please, no flamers.

Warnings: Not many. Probably just implied Glenn/Daryl relationship, a few swear words, a little bit of fluff. No smut. I'm horrible at writing smut so it's unlikely that I'll ever post anything with smut in it. Er, spoilers for the second season finale?

Let's see: Glenn/Darryl friendship and implied/established relationship. That means Guy/Guy. Don't like, there's this nice little thing called the BACK button up on the top of the page. Use it well.

Probably going to come back and edit this at some point, it isn't up to my normally high, perfectionist standards of writing and storytelling. I ran out of steam about half way through, unfortunately.

**Haze of Red**

He was getting really tired of the rest of the group acting like he was in the wrong. So what if he and Daryl hadn't actually made their – whatever it was they had – public yet. _She_, he was still too angry to call her by name yet, had fucking _shot_ Daryl. So, yeah, he was staying clear and contenting himself with angry glares in her direction until the red haze that covered his vision lessened. She was lucky she was such a poor shot, really. Glenn couldn't even think about what would have happened if she hadn't only grazed Daryl. He might forgive her eventually, but he'd be damned before he would allow her anywhere near Daryl with anything that could be used as a weapon. Ever.

**Frayed Sleeve**

If this was Glenn's way of saying something, Daryl thought he should be worried, since the shirt was pretty much shredded. Once white, it was now sort of a grey, like. The bottom had started coming undone, looking like a curtain of threads. For all it looked like something you'd find at the bottom of his mama's rag pile, the shirt fit Glenn pretty well, sleeves and what remained of the rest of it hung on the kid's skinny frame, showing flashes of pale skin as Glenn shifted and moved. He crossed the campsite in a purposeful stride, meeting Glenn halfway. For all it looked like a fraying rag, the little dangling parts were useful for something, Daryl thought as he yanked the skinny Korean in for a kiss. Might as well make his own statement about their relationship, he mused before losing himself in the embrace.

( AN: Taking some liberties with the WD timeline here. It had to have been at least a couple days that Daryl was looking for Sophia before and when the group started staying at Herschel's, so yeah.)

**Gun Oil**

The pungent odor of the oil Daryl used to clean his crossbow flooded his senses. He could almost taste it; it was so prevalent in the tent. Of course, that may have had more to do with the fact that Glenn had his face buried in the ratty old shirt that Daryl used as a rag when he cleaned the thing. Why did Glenn have the rag shoved as close to his face as he could get it, without actually shoving it up his nose or inhaling it? Oh, right, because it had been two days since Daryl had left to look for Sophia and Glenn missed him. No, it was worse than that. Glenn, to the utter horror of the small part of his brain that wasn't focused on missing the redneck, he was _pining,_ like a lovesick _girl._ At least it couldn't get much worse from this point, could it? Of course, it did. Darryl came back wounded by his own arrows, and to top it off, Andrea had almost shot him in the head. Murphy's goddamn law.

**Dirt Smears**

(set tentatively around the second season finale, after they all meet up.)

After everything that had happened in the past few days, Darryl was beyond happy to just hold the skinny little Korean that night. Should he tell the kid he had dirt smeared all over his face? The kid snuffled and burrowed deeper into his side, relaxing into sleep, bony elbows digging into Darryl's side. Nah. He'd let his boy sleep.


End file.
